


sunday reading.

by enbymickey



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Post Season 10, husbands being domestic and cute, ian just being soft and understanding and gentle like mickey deserves and mickey appreciating it, ian likes to read, mickey cannot read but not in a he's not smart way just : ( sad childhood way, so ian reads to mickey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:22:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24122794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enbymickey/pseuds/enbymickey
Summary: It’s like Ian can sense that something is going in Mickey’s head because he looks up from the book with raised eyebrows but his features are soft, understanding and he just looks for a moment. “You want me to read to you?” and Mickey feels like he could cry because there’s no judgement in his tone, there’s no look what I can do and you can’t. He doesn’t know how Ian can understand him that easily, how he’s always just got him. It makes Mickey feel like Ian Gallagher just cut into him and saw him in ways no one else has seen before for the hundredth time.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 12
Kudos: 220





	sunday reading.

**Author's Note:**

> hello so here's a one shot based off some tweets that i made weeks ago and have been planning on writing since those tweets but i got some bad writers block and it took me way too long to write this but i hope you enjoy ! and thank you lux for the book recs and reading over this!

Something that most people don’t know about Ian is that he loves to read. Ever since he was a kid with freckles and floppy hair trying to figure out how to be himself in a town where he couldn’t find anyone like himself. Living in a house with a family that moved so quickly he was often forgotten about even if he was the one making sure it was that way, never wanting to be a bother, never wanting them to figure out his secret. Shared comic books with lip quickly turned into novels, staying up until the sun came up reading and completely immersing into the fictional world in his hands because reading has always been an escape for Ian even before his head was filled with doubt and fears of who he is, before the demons in his head got too loud. 

Mickey, on the other hand, never had the chance to read. It’s not that he didn’t want to, when he would go to school teachers always got frustrated with him because the letters didn’t look right and he couldn’t figure it out so after a while he just stopped trying. No one helped him, no one tried to get him the help he needed so he decided he didn’t need it with the help of his father saying  _ ‘you don’t need that pussy shit, son, grab a fuckin’ gun’  _ and Mickey believed him. Mickey never learned how to read, the only thing he was taught was violence and blood. 

Now, the two men are married and they have sunday’s free - they always make sure to have sunday’s free. A tradition they didn’t even talk about, like most things they just fell into a routine. They’re in bed together, where they spend most of the day, ignoring the way the house moves just outside the door because right now, it’s just the two of them in their own world but then again, it’s always just been Ian and Mickey in their own world until something comes to pop the bubble they made for themselves but this time no one can, there’s no one coming to pop their bubble. 

They’re laying together, limbs tangled in ways that would confuse the hell out of someone if they just walked in but they went from wrestling in bed and laughing together to relaxing in just a beat, they just stayed tangled together, not caring.

Ian has a book, his favorite book, resting against the bed with one hand free to turn the pages. The pages are stained, some are bent back to keep his spot from the other times he’s read it, and the spine is bent but Ian refuses to give it up. His other hand is resting against Mickey's head, resting on his stomach while Mickey plays some shooting game on his phone, long fingers massaging and messing with his hair. 

They stay like this for probably an hour but could’ve been fifteen minutes, all that Mickey knows is he’s starting to get hungry so tattooed fingers are swatting away the freckled hand on his head as he manages to sit up, mickey see’s the fucker just laugh while he continues to read. Mickey watches Ian for a minute, there’s a tiny bit of hurt that sits in his chest as he watches Ian just read, there’s no struggling and that’s clear in the way he’s so relaxed with eyes following the page. He doesn’t want to sit there and feel sorry for himself, feel jealousy towards the man he loves, it feels stupid and a real pussy move so he’s climbing out of bed, throwing some pants on to go downstairs to find some food when Ian looks up at him with those puppy dog eyes he’s looked at him with since they were just kids and once again, Mickey feels guilty for even the slightest bit of jealousy that still sits in him. 

  
  


“Can you get me an apple?” Ian asks with his lazy but still somehow bright smile and Mickey doesn’t know how the fuck he got so lucky but who the fuck chooses an apple as a snack? 

“You want a fuckin’ ruler and a chalk board too, teacher?” He’s throwing on one if Ian’s shirts while he’s asking, the words get mostly mumbled into the fabric but Ian still heard him and when Mickey’s no longer messing with the shirt that’s way too big for him he looks up to see Ian’s middle finger up directed towards him, already back to reading and Mickey just smiles, feeling lighter. 

It’s somehow become an unspoken rule in the house that if you see Ian and Mickey on sunday just don’t interact unless spoken too, sometimes Mickey wishes that’s the way it was around there all the fucking time. Mickey grabs himself a coffee and some cereal, moving around the kitchen like he’s been there his entire life and for some reason it feels like he has and at the same time not nearly long enough. Grabbing Ian a water and his stupid apple before heading back up the stairs. 

The door struggles to open, **_jesus_** **_christ they need to get a real door for this room_** , almost spilling his coffee as he struggles to get it open but finally doing so and just seeing Ian laying there where he left him, smirking at him. “Coulda fuckin’ helped.” he says, throwing the apple in his direction, barely missing his head. 

“Jesus christ, Mick.” Ian’s mumbling under his breath, finally pulling away from that damn book  _ ( he’s read it at least 3 times since they’ve been married, how the fuck can one book be  _ **_that_ ** _ interesting ? )  _ long enough to reach over and press a few kisses against his lips, smiling as he does so and Mickey always feels like he’s floating when he does that, no matter how long it’s been or how many times it happens, he feels the same way,  **_free and safe._ **

Mickey eats his cereal, phone in hand while Ian goes back to reading, crunching on that damn apple as he does. Cereal is finished, bowl placed on the nightstand next to Ian’s meds that he watched him take this morning. Mickey forgets his phone and looks over Ian’s shoulder while he reads, blinking almost rapidly like that’s going to make the words make any sense, like that’s going to give him a childhood where someone cared enough to realize he needed help. 

It’s like Ian can sense that something is going in Mickey’s head because he looks up from the book with raised eyebrows but his features are soft, understanding and he just looks for a moment. “You want me to read to you?” and Mickey feels like he could cry because there’s no judgement in his tone, there’s no  **_look what I can do and you can’t_ ** . He doesn’t know how Ian can understand him that easily, how he’s always just  **_got_ ** him. It makes Mickey feel like Ian Gallagher just cut into him and saw him in ways no one else has seen before for the hundredth time.

  
  


“Fuck off.” It’s Mickey’s first instinct, to be defensive because he’s hurt but it’s not Ian’s fault and he knows that, he knows that it’s just how it is and Ian is trying to help, he’s always been just trying to help him. Ian’s smiling at him, that stupid understanding, soft smile that he has because he’s so goddamn patient with him and Mickey wonders for the fiftth time that morning how he managed to get so lucky, how his life went from fucked to  **_this_ ** .

“I mean - yeah,  **_whatever,_ ** if you want.” Ian just continues to smile, moving his long ass body so he’s resting against Mickey’s side, their shoulders touching and Ian moves his leg so it’s resting on top of Mickey’s. 

“The fuck you readin’ anyway?” He looks at the book, squinting as he tries to make out the title but he can’t, the letters jumbled together as always but Ian, warm and gentle as always, presses a kiss to Mickey’s shoulder and says, “ _ The Catcher in the Rye _ , ‘bout this kid who gets kicked outta school then tries to find his way and shit.”

“Sounds gay.” Mickey mumbles while his hand itches towards Ian’s hand that’s resting on his thigh, he doesn’t have to have an excuse to hold Ian’s hand now he just can. He’s safe and he’s free. He feels that, every day with him now, even when he’s angry about the childhood he never got, even when he feels a weight on his chest he doesn’t completely understand he has Ian, he will always have Ian and that’s enough, for him that’s enough. 

Ian lets out a lazy laugh, letting Mickey take his hand, not even acknowledging it but somewhere in him that fifteen year old kid is losing his mind over this. “Yeah but if this gets to be too complicated for you I could always go get Franny’s copy of  _ The Very Hungry Caterpillar  _ for you.”

And everything Mickey was feeling, every single doubt he had about himself and all his anger for his childhood he never had, his worry just washes away for a moment and is replaced with that sense of feeling safe again, he knows Ian is messing with him to make him feel better and he appreciates him for it, more than he knows how to express with words so he just reaches over, free hand resting against his jaw as he kisses him with “fuck you” mumbled between and Ian replies with a “love you too, Mick.” 

They pull away from the kiss, smile and the entire room feels light again, Mickey feels light and happy and right now that’s all he needs, all he’s ever wanted and what he never let himself dream for. 

Ian reads to him for a few hours but it passes by quickly while Mickey just listens while he holds and messes around with Ian’s fingers, eventually falling asleep with his head on Ian’s shoulder but Ian doesn’t stop, not until his own eyes feel heavy and his head rests against Mickey’s, falling asleep with their breathing in sync. 

This becomes part of their sunday tradition, Ian reads to Mickey until they fall asleep together for their second nap of the day. And yeah, maybe Mickey finally gets the hype around reading. 

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed! if you want leave a comment, a kudos or just scream really loud from your window and maybe i'll hear it ! i'm always accepting prompts so if you want to send me those as well, please do! i hope everyone is doing well during this time and staying safe!
> 
> twitter: ianlovebot  
> tumblr: sandymilkovich


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